As quickly as that, the world was looking different to Daphne. Even the
difficulty and the pain embedded in her conversation with Frasier and
Martin was necessary; it seemed to cement her resolution to address this
head-on. She'd never had to put the whole thing into words before; the
phrases "HIV-positive" and "left me" staggered lumpily off her tongue. But
it was a relief to have it out. No turning back now.
While she was speaking, the faces of the Crane men went through the expected contortions of shock and sympathy and pain and something that might even be melodramatically termed heartbreak. It was their reactions after the revelations were through that surprised her somewhat. She'd worried briefly, before she went to them, that their conflicting loyalties might leave her a little in the cold. After all, Niles was their blood relative, and the three of them shared an uncommon bond - even Martin wasn't so much the odd man out anymore. They had an understanding and an abiding love for one another. Whereas she was a low-class British interloper, a former employee. If it came to a choice between her and Niles, how could she reasonably expect them to pick her?
Yet she didn't see any of that in their faces once she'd finished. No warring emotion, no struggle to pick sides. The tale had left them speechless, but seconds after she was done Frasier stood and enveloped her in a long, powerful hug that started her crying again. When they finally pulled apart Frasier was wiping tears from his eyes as well, but he didn't seem to have found anything to say.
Martin spoke up first. "I can't believe this," he said. She glanced over, found his face taut and strained, his eyes wide and fiery. "I can't believe it," he said again. He took a step towards her, leaning on his cane. "That's why he left?" he asked, and she could sense the pleading in his voice. Please, tell me it wasn't that way, he was saying.
Of course she couldn't tell him that. She shook her head wordlessly.
"Niles. My son. Niles did this to you and walked out on you? Without a word of explanation? He blew off."
"He left a note," she mumbled.
Martin shook his head - by now the rest of his body was shaking as well. "Damn it - that is *not* how I raised my son to behave!" he said, voice rising, and Daphne automatically took a step back from the hot shimmering fury that now seemed to encircle him in an aura. "A coward. I've raised a coward."
"Dad -" Frasier tried to intervene.
Martin shook his head again, and now his anger was trained on Frasier. "What is it, Fras? You going to try to defend him? Just try it. I don't know how the hell he brought this on himself but we know how he brought it on Daphne - Mel, too?" he asked, and Daphne nodded. He barreled on. "And I can't believe he'd walk out on a situation like that. I can't believe he'd be that low." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I've had a million adjectives to excuse him over the years, you know. When he'd skip school to avoid the bullies I said he was high-strung. And when he ran away from every hard situation in his life, from Little League all the way up to Maris, I said he was just sensitive. I've been trying to avoid what he is my whole life because I didn't want to be ashamed of him. But I'm ashamed now." Suddenly the wind went out of him, and he sagged limply against the couch. "I raised a coward," he muttered, this time to himself.
When it was clear the fight had gone out of him, Frasier gently put his arm around his father's shoulders. "I know, Dad," he said. "I'm ashamed of him too. But he's not the one we need to be thinking of right now."
Daphne looked up disbelievingly.
"Daphne," Frasier said, looking up at her, "what are you going to do from here?"
She stared at him.
"And how can we help?" Martin added.
She stared at them a moment longer. Then with one incoherent sob she was flying across the room and into their arms. They hugged one another fiercely, protectively, with not a dry eye among them. Daphne felt a new strength seeping into her as she shared the embrace.
When she pulled away, her expression was resolute. "I need to get to a doctor," she said, "and I need to pay my bills."
"We can do that for you, Daphne," Frasier said.
She shook her head. "I think I should pay my own debts. But thanks for offering."
"Suit yourself," Martin said, his gaze traversing her four-hundred-dollar outfit. She elected to ignore the implication.
"And the medical bills -" Frasier began.
Daphne shook her head again. "First of all, Mel was ahead of you on that one," she said with a small smile. "Anyway -"
"Mel?" Martin asked, clearly fighting back an urge to rub his ears.
She nodded, and a faint but mischievous smile dawned on her face. "Yes. She and I've gotten friendlier since all this. She's really not so bad."
Frasier cleared his throat. "Wait a minute, Daphne - you're telling me you've befriended Mel? Mel -"
"Yes, Mel-Niles'-bitchy-ex," Daphne cut him off. "I don't think any of us saw her at her best before. Now she's found herself a girlfriend she seems much happier," she couldn't help adding.
"*What?!*" they both cried.
She couldn't help but grin, though she would have dearly loved to make it through this deadpan. "Yes. Name's Kyra. Nice woman. Anyway," she said, talking over their astounded expressions, "she already offered to pay for that, and though if it comes to that I'd rather take money from you than from her, it seems a little premature at this point. I just want to focus on finding meself a good doctor. And cutting up my credit cards."
"Well, leave the doctor thing up to him," Martin said, jerking a head in Frasier's direction. Frasier nodded in affirmation. "And whatever else you need, you let us know. Niles may be gone but that doesn't mean you're not part of the family, you know."
She nodded wordlessly, unable to speak for the lump in her throat, and caught him in a hug that was almost violent. She was surprised to find him reciprocate with at least equal strength - this from a man so notoriously opposed to physical displays of affection.
When they pulled apart they were both crying again, but this time Martin had recovered enough to be embarrassed. "Something in my eye," he said gruffly, limping off to the kitchen. Daphne laughed and leaned against Frasier, suddenly exhausted.
"It'll be all right," Frasier said eventually, as she rested against him, eyes closed.
She glanced up. "Excuse me, Dr. Crane, but of all the things you could say that one is definitely not true."
"No, really," he protested, and she could see he was serious. "This may not even be a death sentence. The medications for HIV are getting better all the time, patients are living longer and longer all the time -"
"Yeah, look at Magic Johnson," Martin confirmed, coming back in with a beer. Daphne wanted to warn him that that would only increase the likelihood of another emotional outburst, but held her tongue. "He was diagnosed with HIV like a decade ago, and he's still going strong."
"Who?" Frasier asked, wrinkling his brow, and Daphne and Martin both laughed.
"Anyway," Frasier said, clearly not liking their shared laughter any more than he ever would, but prepared to overlook it this time, "the point is that research in this field is progressing in leaps and bounds. These new medications may keep your disease from progressing until a cure's found."
Daphne smiled, not quite able to believe it, and quite sure that even if she could believe it she probably shouldn't. She'd rather be surprised by a miracle cure than die feeling cheated out of a false hope. "Maybe," she said. "But right now I think I'd better just focus on - well, right now."
"Wise," Frasier said. "In that case, I'm going to start making calls now to find out whom you should see at the hospital."
"Now? It's a Saturday," Daphne said.
"Oh, someone will be there. Hospitals don't close, you know," Frasier said, and click went his study door behind him. Martin turned to her.
"He wants to feel like he's doing something. Believe you me, he will find you the best care in Seattle," he said.
She nodded. "Oh, I know." Feeling her business here was concluded, but not wanting to leave, she sat on the couch. "Do you mind if I hang around awhile?" she asked. "It's sort of lonely at the apartment."
"Oh - yeah! Yeah!" Martin said, hobbling back to his chair. "I'd love that." She smiled at him.
"I'll even let you pick the channel," he said, throwing the remote at her, and she laughed. On second thought, though, his action seemed rather savvy. She'd done all the talking she could handle for one night.
"Home shopping it is, then," she sang out brightly, and flicked to channel 62, where a stunning faux diamond tiara was revolving on a blue imitation- velvet display. Martin made a face and stretched a hand out for the remote.
"Within reason."
She laughed and flicked to Turner Classic Movies, where Cary Grant was heckling an earnest-looking Ralph Bellamy. She looked over at Martin.
"Good enough," he concluded.
"I love Cary Grant," she said, once she was sure she wasn't going to be told to change the channel.
"Maybe we can get you to meet him. Is he dead?" Martin asked. Daphne laughed, then laughed harder when she realized he wasn't entirely kidding.
"Oh, please, Mr. Hollywood Insider there. This isn't the One Last Wish program anyway. Now hush, I'm missing my movie." Rosalind Russell was speaking about three hundred words a minute, so that missing even a second's worth of dialogue was a legitimate concern. They both settled back to watch.
"So," Martin said in a conspiratorial tone, "Mel turned out to be a lesbian?"
She laughed and threw a pillow at him.
"No, really. That's kind of -"
"Sod off, old man, it's none of your business," she said, rather enjoying this.
"But -"
"Later!" She gestured towards the screen, and shushing off the rest of his objections, she settled into the movie with a sense of calm she hadn't felt in months.
While she was speaking, the faces of the Crane men went through the expected contortions of shock and sympathy and pain and something that might even be melodramatically termed heartbreak. It was their reactions after the revelations were through that surprised her somewhat. She'd worried briefly, before she went to them, that their conflicting loyalties might leave her a little in the cold. After all, Niles was their blood relative, and the three of them shared an uncommon bond - even Martin wasn't so much the odd man out anymore. They had an understanding and an abiding love for one another. Whereas she was a low-class British interloper, a former employee. If it came to a choice between her and Niles, how could she reasonably expect them to pick her?
Yet she didn't see any of that in their faces once she'd finished. No warring emotion, no struggle to pick sides. The tale had left them speechless, but seconds after she was done Frasier stood and enveloped her in a long, powerful hug that started her crying again. When they finally pulled apart Frasier was wiping tears from his eyes as well, but he didn't seem to have found anything to say.
Martin spoke up first. "I can't believe this," he said. She glanced over, found his face taut and strained, his eyes wide and fiery. "I can't believe it," he said again. He took a step towards her, leaning on his cane. "That's why he left?" he asked, and she could sense the pleading in his voice. Please, tell me it wasn't that way, he was saying.
Of course she couldn't tell him that. She shook her head wordlessly.
"Niles. My son. Niles did this to you and walked out on you? Without a word of explanation? He blew off."
"He left a note," she mumbled.
Martin shook his head - by now the rest of his body was shaking as well. "Damn it - that is *not* how I raised my son to behave!" he said, voice rising, and Daphne automatically took a step back from the hot shimmering fury that now seemed to encircle him in an aura. "A coward. I've raised a coward."
"Dad -" Frasier tried to intervene.
Martin shook his head again, and now his anger was trained on Frasier. "What is it, Fras? You going to try to defend him? Just try it. I don't know how the hell he brought this on himself but we know how he brought it on Daphne - Mel, too?" he asked, and Daphne nodded. He barreled on. "And I can't believe he'd walk out on a situation like that. I can't believe he'd be that low." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I've had a million adjectives to excuse him over the years, you know. When he'd skip school to avoid the bullies I said he was high-strung. And when he ran away from every hard situation in his life, from Little League all the way up to Maris, I said he was just sensitive. I've been trying to avoid what he is my whole life because I didn't want to be ashamed of him. But I'm ashamed now." Suddenly the wind went out of him, and he sagged limply against the couch. "I raised a coward," he muttered, this time to himself.
When it was clear the fight had gone out of him, Frasier gently put his arm around his father's shoulders. "I know, Dad," he said. "I'm ashamed of him too. But he's not the one we need to be thinking of right now."
Daphne looked up disbelievingly.
"Daphne," Frasier said, looking up at her, "what are you going to do from here?"
She stared at him.
"And how can we help?" Martin added.
She stared at them a moment longer. Then with one incoherent sob she was flying across the room and into their arms. They hugged one another fiercely, protectively, with not a dry eye among them. Daphne felt a new strength seeping into her as she shared the embrace.
When she pulled away, her expression was resolute. "I need to get to a doctor," she said, "and I need to pay my bills."
"We can do that for you, Daphne," Frasier said.
She shook her head. "I think I should pay my own debts. But thanks for offering."
"Suit yourself," Martin said, his gaze traversing her four-hundred-dollar outfit. She elected to ignore the implication.
"And the medical bills -" Frasier began.
Daphne shook her head again. "First of all, Mel was ahead of you on that one," she said with a small smile. "Anyway -"
"Mel?" Martin asked, clearly fighting back an urge to rub his ears.
She nodded, and a faint but mischievous smile dawned on her face. "Yes. She and I've gotten friendlier since all this. She's really not so bad."
Frasier cleared his throat. "Wait a minute, Daphne - you're telling me you've befriended Mel? Mel -"
"Yes, Mel-Niles'-bitchy-ex," Daphne cut him off. "I don't think any of us saw her at her best before. Now she's found herself a girlfriend she seems much happier," she couldn't help adding.
"*What?!*" they both cried.
She couldn't help but grin, though she would have dearly loved to make it through this deadpan. "Yes. Name's Kyra. Nice woman. Anyway," she said, talking over their astounded expressions, "she already offered to pay for that, and though if it comes to that I'd rather take money from you than from her, it seems a little premature at this point. I just want to focus on finding meself a good doctor. And cutting up my credit cards."
"Well, leave the doctor thing up to him," Martin said, jerking a head in Frasier's direction. Frasier nodded in affirmation. "And whatever else you need, you let us know. Niles may be gone but that doesn't mean you're not part of the family, you know."
She nodded wordlessly, unable to speak for the lump in her throat, and caught him in a hug that was almost violent. She was surprised to find him reciprocate with at least equal strength - this from a man so notoriously opposed to physical displays of affection.
When they pulled apart they were both crying again, but this time Martin had recovered enough to be embarrassed. "Something in my eye," he said gruffly, limping off to the kitchen. Daphne laughed and leaned against Frasier, suddenly exhausted.
"It'll be all right," Frasier said eventually, as she rested against him, eyes closed.
She glanced up. "Excuse me, Dr. Crane, but of all the things you could say that one is definitely not true."
"No, really," he protested, and she could see he was serious. "This may not even be a death sentence. The medications for HIV are getting better all the time, patients are living longer and longer all the time -"
"Yeah, look at Magic Johnson," Martin confirmed, coming back in with a beer. Daphne wanted to warn him that that would only increase the likelihood of another emotional outburst, but held her tongue. "He was diagnosed with HIV like a decade ago, and he's still going strong."
"Who?" Frasier asked, wrinkling his brow, and Daphne and Martin both laughed.
"Anyway," Frasier said, clearly not liking their shared laughter any more than he ever would, but prepared to overlook it this time, "the point is that research in this field is progressing in leaps and bounds. These new medications may keep your disease from progressing until a cure's found."
Daphne smiled, not quite able to believe it, and quite sure that even if she could believe it she probably shouldn't. She'd rather be surprised by a miracle cure than die feeling cheated out of a false hope. "Maybe," she said. "But right now I think I'd better just focus on - well, right now."
"Wise," Frasier said. "In that case, I'm going to start making calls now to find out whom you should see at the hospital."
"Now? It's a Saturday," Daphne said.
"Oh, someone will be there. Hospitals don't close, you know," Frasier said, and click went his study door behind him. Martin turned to her.
"He wants to feel like he's doing something. Believe you me, he will find you the best care in Seattle," he said.
She nodded. "Oh, I know." Feeling her business here was concluded, but not wanting to leave, she sat on the couch. "Do you mind if I hang around awhile?" she asked. "It's sort of lonely at the apartment."
"Oh - yeah! Yeah!" Martin said, hobbling back to his chair. "I'd love that." She smiled at him.
"I'll even let you pick the channel," he said, throwing the remote at her, and she laughed. On second thought, though, his action seemed rather savvy. She'd done all the talking she could handle for one night.
"Home shopping it is, then," she sang out brightly, and flicked to channel 62, where a stunning faux diamond tiara was revolving on a blue imitation- velvet display. Martin made a face and stretched a hand out for the remote.
"Within reason."
She laughed and flicked to Turner Classic Movies, where Cary Grant was heckling an earnest-looking Ralph Bellamy. She looked over at Martin.
"Good enough," he concluded.
"I love Cary Grant," she said, once she was sure she wasn't going to be told to change the channel.
"Maybe we can get you to meet him. Is he dead?" Martin asked. Daphne laughed, then laughed harder when she realized he wasn't entirely kidding.
"Oh, please, Mr. Hollywood Insider there. This isn't the One Last Wish program anyway. Now hush, I'm missing my movie." Rosalind Russell was speaking about three hundred words a minute, so that missing even a second's worth of dialogue was a legitimate concern. They both settled back to watch.
"So," Martin said in a conspiratorial tone, "Mel turned out to be a lesbian?"
She laughed and threw a pillow at him.
"No, really. That's kind of -"
"Sod off, old man, it's none of your business," she said, rather enjoying this.
"But -"
"Later!" She gestured towards the screen, and shushing off the rest of his objections, she settled into the movie with a sense of calm she hadn't felt in months.